


Defining Gorgeous

by DameRuth



Series: Jed and Friends [10]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Body Positivity, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24444160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DameRuth/pseuds/DameRuth
Summary: Rose and TenII discuss appearances.
Relationships: TenII/Rose Tyler/Alt!Jack Harkness
Series: Jed and Friends [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2503
Kudos: 7





	Defining Gorgeous

**Author's Note:**

> A [Support Stacie](http://www.majiksfanfic.com/phpbb/viewforum.php?f=111) bidding incentive fic for 4ensicbones, to the prompt: "Jed!verse: mirrors."  
> This "drabble/ficlet" topped out at over 3,800 words, proving yet again that if brevity is the soul of wit, I'm SOL. Many thanks to Aibhinn for beta work, which led to a greatly-improved final product.
> 
> {Another Teaspoon import, original posting date 2009.09.22.]

The ring tone told Rose who was calling even before she answered. She tapped the button that would put her left earpod into mobile mode. "Hey, you."  
  
_"Hey, yourself,"_ Jed responded. _"Where are you?"_  
  
"Just back in London," she told him. "Still at the airport, in fact." She craned her neck as the baggage carousel began to move, scanning for the bright pink tags she'd added to make her luggage more distinctive. "I got free early."  
  
A long weekend in Paris _sounded_ wonderful -- but when it came at the cost of attending a trade show, alone, as a representative of VitexCorp (and thus really only seeing the inside of a convention center for several days) _and_ it took her away from the far more interesting daily work of Torchwood (not to mention both her partners), Paris could go hang . . . if it weren't for her responsibilities as her father's daughter. The trade show happened to fall exactly in the middle of her parents' long-planned anniversary/second honeymoon trip, and she wasn't about to see them forced to cancel just so Pete could do a bit of necessary product-flogging and gladhanding. Ordinarily, it would be a job for just the marketing department, but there were enough big names in attendance at this Vitex had been obliged to send people of a similar caliber. Still, Rose Tyler was a presence to reckon with in the business world; even if the top man himself hadn't been there heading the team, she reckoned she'd made a good showing on her own.  
  
_"How'd it go?"_ Jed asked.  
  
"Well enough, I suppose," Rose said, rubbing the back of her aching, tired neck. The seats on commercial zeppelin flights never seemed to match up with the curves of her spine. "Boring, but we talked to a lot of people, might pick up some good business from it. How're things on your end?"  
  
Jed was also spending a weekend away from London, helping teach a wilderness survival course for new Torchwood trainees. He'd grown up on a thinly-settled border planet that was home to fewer people than the British Isles in the twenty-first century, so he tended to laugh at what constituted "wilderness" in Rose's world, but he was more than happy to share his expertise. As he'd told his daunted students, "Weird shit doesn't just happen conveniently in the city. It can happen _anywhere,_ and you've gotta be ready."  
  
Jed laughed. _"The youngsters all_ think _they're gonna die, but they're really doing fine. They're lucky I'm not like my old sergeants, though --_ they _would've had no mercy on a bunch of city kids like this. I can't believe some of them have never spent a weekend away from electricity and running water."_  
  
Rose joined in Jed's laughter, secretly glad that _she_ wasn't spending a weekend sleeping rough. She was very much looking forward to a hot shower, and, most likely, spending a little quality time with the third member of their triad . . .  
  
"Have you heard anything from the Doctor today?" she asked. "He's not picking up his mobile."  
  
_"Probably left it in the lab again,"_ Jed said, with affectionate exasperation. _"You know what he's like when he's analyzing some new toy or other."_  
  
"Yeah, that's what I thought," Rose said. "If there'd been any emergencies, we'd've heard." Far down the carousel, she spotted a flash of bright pink and went up on tiptoe for a better look.  
  
_"Probably sooner rather than later, too,"_ Jed said, dryly. _"Well, I should let you go before the kids get jealous -- we took away their earpods and they're all going through withdrawal. Miss you."_  
  
"Miss you, too," Rose said, starting to work her way through the crowd of waiting people to meet her luggage as it came down the conveyor belt. "See you day after tomorrow. Call."  
  
_"You bet. Bye!"_  
  
"Bye." She tapped off her earpod and reached out to snag the larger of her two bags, moving in blissful anonymity. She'd learned to adopt a particular style of makeup and clothing for when she was playing Vitex Heiress and another for Torchwood and every day. It was amazing how even small, superficial changes could have people looking right past her on the street and never having a clue about who she really was. The Doctor liked to tease her about her secret superhero identity -- but as far as she was concerned, if it worked, she didn't care.  
  
The small bag followed the large one around the carousel in short order (the Vitex Heiress needed to pack a ridiculous amount of clothing, even for such a short trip), and Rose hauled both towards the entrance, taking pleasure in the tug and pull of physical activity after a mostly-sedentary couple of days. Her timing proved to be impeccable, because she'd only just set the bags down when she caught sight of the black Tyler limo rounding the corner.  
  
Reg brought the long, smooth car exactly even with her and stopped with tidy precision. Rose gratefully heaved her bags inside, followed by her tired body. She settled into the well-padded leather interior, groaning with relief and letting her head loll over the back of the seat.  
  
"Long trip?" Reg asked, with a quick, sympathetic glance in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the curb.  
  
"Long enough," Rose agreed. "Close to done, though," she added, which earned a friendly snort from Reg. After a minute, she added, "How are things at home?"  
  
"Quiet," he told her. "Your mum and dad are still out of town, and there's only so much ruckus the Doctor can raise on his own."  
  
Rose huffed a laugh without raising her head or opening her eyes. "Don't underestimate him," she said.  
  
Reg, a long-time employee well familiar with a certain half-alien, laughed with her.  
  
The rest of the trip passed mostly in pleasant silence, Rose decompressing and Reg letting her do it in her own time. She let her mind drift, to the man waiting for her and the lovely, long-fingered hands that she could probably convince to work all the knots out of her overstressed neck and back.  
  
She supposed it was a sign of encroaching domesticity that the first thing she thought of getting from the Doctor was a back rub, but it was so close to her vision of paradise at the moment she didn't really care. Not that she wasn't looking forward to other activities, too. She wasn't _that_ domesticated yet. And there was a special luxury in the idea of having a couple days to spend just with the Doctor. She loved Jed with all her heart, just as she loved the Doctor and loved the three of them together, but as both Jed and the Doctor were quick to point out (and Rose was learning from experience), three people meant three relationships to maintain, and they all benefited from the occasional bout of exclusive one-on-one bonding time.  
  
When the car pulled into a familiar gravel drive, Reg broke their mutual silence to say, "I'll have the bags brought up to your suite later. You go on."  
  
"Thanks," Rose said, meaning it. She wondered if the Doctor was home yet. If he was, she would see about the back rub first. If he wasn't, it was the shower, she decided.  
  
The question was answered for her when she walked through the suite door and saw the Doctor's keys on their hook; he might forget his mobile on a regular basis, but he was scrupulous about his keys. Where he was, they were.  
  
Her heart lifting, Rose wandered in the direction of the bedroom, a cheery greeting on the tip of her tongue, already imagining the Doctor's pleased surprise at her early arrival home. A hint of movement caught her eye through the half-open doorway and she nearly called out. However, she didn't, and thus was treated to the sight of the Doctor inspecting himself in the full-length mirror, her presence still undetected.  
  
She wasn't sure what stopped her tongue, but she was struck immediately by the sense of having walked in on something private. That sense was intensified by the fact that the Doctor was stark naked (except for a pair of socks), but the real tip-off was his reflected expression, a dissatisfied frown very different from his usual bouncy cheer.  
  
Rose instinctively went into stealth mode, stepping lightly as she crept closer, processing what she was seeing.  
  
The Doctor was shifting and flexing for the mirror, inspecting himself all over with a critical air. Rose was caught by the sight he presented: wiry, spare, tautly beautiful, not a wasted ounce on him. Judging from the look on his face, however, the Doctor was seeing something different.  
  
As the seconds dragged on, Rose bit her lip, feeling more and more the intruder, but not certain how to announce her presence gracefully. The decision was finally taken out of her hands when the Doctor caught sight of her reflection and did a twitching double-take that was almost, but not quite, funny.  
  
"Um. Hello," Rose said, stepping into the bedroom. "I got away from the trade show early. I tried calling, but you didn't pick up."  
  
"Er. I must have left it in the lab," the Doctor said, blinking.  
  
Dead silence then, the Doctor looking completely out of his depth. Feeling like she had to say something more, Rose added, "Didn't mean to interrupt anything . . ."  
  
The Doctor swallowed, and shifted into gear. "Oh, no, nothing to interrupt. Nothing at all. I was just . . ." he trailed off abruptly.  
  
"Just looking?" Rose prompted, slipping off her blazer and tossing it over a chair, deliberately projecting a relaxed attitude. "Nothing wrong with that. Lots to look at, I'd say." She smiled, attempting good-humored-but-sensual teasing.  
  
The Doctor flicked a sidelong glance towards his reflection that put Rose on alert, how or why she couldn't quite say -- but she was suddenly very aware of treading sensitive ground. She kept a pleasantly oblivious outward mien as she kicked off her shoes and continued padding towards the Doctor.  
  
He cleared his throat nervously. "Lots . . ." he said, hesitating. Then, "Not sure 'lots' covers it, really."  
  
Rose raised her eyebrows as she slid her arm familiarly around his narrow waist. "Nothing much is covered, right now," she said. "But that's not quite what you meant, is it?"  
  
He harrumphed again, before continuing. "Well, it's just . . . this body, it's a bit on the skinny side, isn't it?"  
  
Rose exhaled, not certain how to proceed. In all of her past experience, she'd never encountered anything like this. Previously, the Doctor had never expressed anything but perfect, pleased acceptance of his current appearance. But that was "before" -- before Davros and the almost-end of everything, before this version of the Doctor existed. This half-human Doctor . . .  
  
For sanity's sake, it was probably good that the Doctor had kept a Time Lord's attitude towards personal change; he seemed to take his new incarnation as nothing more unusual or disturbing than another regeneration, a new self to explore and enjoy. Rose had been happy to follow that lead without thinking deeply about the fact that the man she loved and lived with was no longer entirely himself, but also partly a red-headed temp from Chiswick.  
  
Beyond the outward signs of humanity -- a single heartbeat and a warmer body temperature, plus a bit more stubble in the afternoons -- there were no overt physical signs of the melding. Most of the non-physical signs were trivial as well: a different turn of phrase, a new gesture or tone of voice . . . but those changes had to be rooted in something deeper, and Rose had made herself come to terms with that much, at least. It was easier than she might have expected; she'd learned to like and admire Donna in the brief time they'd known one another, which made it easier to accept echoes of her presence in the human Doctor.  
  
The Doctor himself had gone so far as to cheerfully remark that, while most of his incarnations had possessed "flexible" tendencies, it had taken a dose of human femininity to shove this particular version of himself in such a completely bisexual direction -- which he incidentally considered a great bonus, given the arrival of Jed in their lives.  
  
But what else had he absorbed, down in the murky depths of his new, blended personality, and was all of it so beneficial? When had he learned to look at himself and be dissatisfied? Was that something he'd learned from Donna, or was it an expression of more general human attitudes? Either way, what was it like for him to feel that dissatisfaction, who had always been so purely comfortable in his own skin?  
  
Rose rubbed her chin along the soft, bare, freckly skin of his shoulder and considered her answer very seriously indeed. "Not 'skinny,'" she said in an authoritative tone. "More 'lean.' Trim. _Streamlined._ "  
  
The Doctor didn't seem reassured. He shot another sidelong glance at his reflection, flexing his arm slightly to make the muscles and tendons slide under the skin. "D'you think?" he asked, and her heart contracted at the dubious tone in his voice. "Compared to --" his mouth snapped shut, but understanding dawned for Rose.  
  
"Compared to who?" she asked, even more gently. "Jed?" The Doctor didn't reply, but she saw his throat muscles contract and knew she was right. "Jed," she said, making her voice very deliberate, "is a Greek god brought to life -- he's not exactly a fair comparison for anyone. Blimey, _I_ feel inadequate next to him, too. That's just natural. It's not like he doesn't have about fifteen metabolic cheats grafted into his DNA. Mr. Fifty-first Century. But being perfect isn't the only way to be attractive."  
  
The Doctor made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, and Rose hugged him more tightly. "I'm serious. You're not just attractive, you're gorgeous."  
  
He leaned slightly into her embrace. "You're a bit biased," he pointed out.  
  
"Well, if I'm biased, why does Lois in Accounting always ogle your bum when you're bent over going for something in the filing cabinet?"  
  
"Really? Lois ogles my bum?" the Doctor seemed more pleased than disconcerted by that revelation, so Rose continued.  
  
"Half of Torchwood ogles you one way or another," she said honestly. "Like I said, you're gorgeous."  
  
He was quiet again, but at least there were no more disbelieving noises.  
  
Rose made a decision. "Tell you what," she said. "Go lie down and I'll prove it. Go on," she added more firmly when the Doctor blinked at her. He still looked confused, but moved to comply as she stripped off the last of her outer clothing.  
  
She arranged the Doctor so he was lying face-down on the bed and settled next to his feet; she'd been hoping to be the one to get the massage, but the Doctor clearly needed the TLC more today. She had no idea how long this situation had been brewing, but she wanted to cut it off immediately.  
  
With the confidence of experience, she reached for the Doctor's nearest foot, lifting it so she could peel away his sock and start working the sole with her thumbs. The Doctor made a small noise of pleasure; foot rubs were a favorite of his.  
  
"It's not something I've ever said," Rose began, in a conversational tone. "But I've always really liked your feet. You've got fabulous arches -- gives you that nice spring in your step." She switched to his other foot, tossing the sock aside to join its mate. "Really, as feet go, yours are about the most graceful I've ever seen."  
  
"Rose --"  
  
"Shh. Just relax and listen," she told him, finishing with his feet and shifting to straddle his ankles so she could begin kneading her way up his legs. "It always surprises me, how much muscle you've got in your thighs," she continued. "And your calves are like _rocks_. No wonder you can run the way you do. Not even Jed can keep up. It's impressive as hell."  
  
He was easing under her touch, but she wasn't quite sure he was getting all the of the message she intended, so she bent down and kissed the back of his knee, lips and just the brush of a tongue on the delicate skin there. He tensed and jerked in surprise, though when she repeated the gesture on his other leg, he was calmer, expecting the move. "Love the legs," she summed up, and rubbed her way back up his thighs.  
  
"Mmmmmm, and now for one of my favorite bits," she said, letting her tone go teasing as she brushed her fingers lightly along the curve of his bum. "Lois really does ogle you, you know. I've seen a lot of eyes drifting in this direction. But _I'm_ the one who gets to touch as well as look -- me and Jed. And I like that. I like that a _lot_." She used the heels of her hands to work deep, relaxing circles in the large muscles. "I like copping a feel in public when nobody's looking," something she _had_ done, more than once, "and I like reaching around and taking hold when you're inside me, feeling the way you flex and move, the hidden strength of you . . ."  
  
Oh, that was starting to get to him, she could tell. Good. She grinned to herself.  
  
"That's what I think about when I see someone else looking at you, and I remember what a lucky, lucky girl I am." She hitched forward, sliding her hands slowly and sensuously up the curve of his lower back. "You have such a _long_ back," she said, admiringly. "Long and lean and bendy -- that flexibility is really sexy, you know. Makes me think wicked thoughts about the positions I know you can get into -- and all the ones we haven't tried yet." She let that last statement be a promise, knowing it would get the Doctor's agile mind spinning; he was as fond of experimentation in bed as he was in the lab.  
  
She hitched forward again, now at a level where she could sit on the lovely bum she'd just been rhapsodizing about. She let her touch lighten and slid her fingertips down to the sensitive skin of the Doctor's sides, shifting into a light, barely-touching stroke up the length of his torso. His whole body clenched and he gasped, leaving Rose no doubt about his level of arousal now; he was listening to her, no doubt, and definitely responding to her hands.  
  
When she reached his shoulders, she let her hands shift into firm, relaxing kneading motions, and the Doctor eased again, settling under her touch, but with an underlying tension remaining. Rose smiled and brushed her thumbs over the mole between his shoulder blades. "Your mole," she said, with affection. "It really is a great mole." She bent forward and kissed it, being sure to trail her breath generously over his skin in the process. "Not to mention the freckles. The freckles get me every time." She straightened again and worked his shoulders a bit more; he carried most of his tension there, all sensuality aside, and massage concentrated there did a lot to ease him.  
  
"It's odd, how much broader your shoulders look when you've got your clothes off. You always look so slim and trim and foxy in your suits, but you're not as narrow as you seem." He let her hands do their work, and she could feel one level of tension easing even as another was coiling tighter and tighter, just beneath the surface.  
  
Her hands drifted even further up, to the back of his neck and then to the base of his scalp. "And then there's your hair. Grrreat hair," she said, drawing out the word playfully. "Just begs to be ruffled and have fingers run through it. Such a tease." She fluffed his hair with her fingers, then leaned forward to brush more kisses along the nape of his neck, the back of it, and then down to where she could gently tease his earlobe with her tongue.  
  
"Rose!" he gasped, and pushed up against her weight. She relented and stood up on her knees so he could roll to one side. She shifted and slid into position next to him, brushing their bodies together. No doubt that she'd really been getting to him. His eyes were wide and dark and a little wild. She smiled at him and reached up to brush one hand along his cheek.  
  
"And if that's how I feel about your back half, well, you can imagine how I feel about your _front_ half," she told him. Without taking her eyes from his, she slid her hand down the side of his neck, down his chest (catching a tight, hard nipple on the way) and belly, till she reached her goal, wrapped her hand around and squeezed gently. His eyes fluttered closed, he gasped . . . and then Rose found herself vehemently tackled.  
  
_Success!_ she thought as the Doctor's mouth locked against hers in a passionate kiss. The Doctors hands were busy at her back — working the catch of her bra, she realized, since she was still wearing her underwear. He undid the catch with relative ease, then pulled back so he could slide the straps down her arms, brushing her nipples generously with his hands as he peeled the bra down and off before tossing it aside.  
  
"Your hands," she told him, with an impish smile. "Did I mention how much I love your clever, clever hands?"  
  
That earned her another kiss while the Doctor's hands slid down her body to the waistband of her knickers. She obligingly lifted her hips into the air so he could slide the last piece of her clothing down and off, easing down the length of her body and dropping the knickers off the foot of the bed onto the floor. That left him on his knees, straddling her ankles. He was grinning, a lopsided, hungry, wicked expression, his eyes dark and sparkling as he looked at her.  
  
Instead of pouncing immediately, despite his obvious arousal, he surprised her by giving an appreciative half-headshake and grinning more widely. "As long as we're talking about gorgeousness, I'm seeing a few things that shouldn't be neglected," he said in a low, voice that was nearly a purr. Reaching down, he picked up one of Rose's feet, and began, with a firm but sensual stroke, to rub it. "I think feet are a fine place to start."  
  
Rose closed her eyes sighing in pure pleasure. It looked like she'd get that massage after all . . . and then some.  


* * *

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